UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


!——-      =    = 

—  —  =  —  •  •  —  •—  =.=——-.  .. 

Dr. 

GIFT  OF 

ERNEST   C.    MOORE 

Little  Old  Belgium 


By 
Reginald  Wright  Kauffman 

Author  of  "The  House  of  Bondage,"  "The  Spider's 
Web,"  "Jim,"  etc. 


HENRY    ALTEMUS    COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA 


Copyright,  1914 
By  Howard  E.  Altemus 


•ps 


To 
BRAND  WHITLOCK 

Minister  to  Belgium  from  the  United  States  of  America: 

A  Literary  Artist ;  An  Honest  Diplomat ; 

A  Fearless  Man. 


215179 


Horum  omnium  fortissimi  sunt  Belgae. 
—Julius  Caesar. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


Some  of  these  verses  I  was  fortunate  enough 
to  be  able  to  write  within  view  of  the  deeds  that 
they  inadequately  reflect.  Most  are  my  own;  a 
few  are  translations  or  adaptations  of  Belgian 
soldier-songs;  a  pair  were  composed  before  the 
present  war  and  later  altered;  part  of  one  I 
heard  chanted,  and  seemingly  improvised,  by  a 
maddened  woman  amid  the  ruins  of  Louvain. 
In  its  original,  the  rhythm  of  "The  Belgian 
Marching-Song"  was  rather  like  the  inimitable 
"Marching  Song"  by  Berton  Braley,  and  this 
similarity  I  have  tried  to  increase.  I  should  add 
that  "Little  Old  Belgium"  is  not  merely  an 
American  slang  phrase:  the  Belgian  soldier  af 
fectionately  designates  his  country  as  "Belgique, 

ma  petite  vieille." 

R.  W.  K. 

NEAR  GAVERE, 
FLANDRE  ORIENT, 
15TH.  SEPT.,  1914. 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


PEACE-AT-ANY-PRICE. 


My  voice  has  been  for  peace :  I  would  not  dim 
One  woman's  eyes  for  all  war's  high  renown; 
Nor  could  I  see  in  any  captured  town 
A  glory  more  miraculous  than  grim. 
But  here  is  he  that  wrenches  limb  from  limb 
The  lesser  and  the  braver :  this  crowned  clown 
Who  thinks  the  world  must  tremble  at  his 

frown — 

This  foul  Mad  Dog  of  Potsdam :   what  of  him  ? 
* '  For  blood  and  iron ! ' '  cried  his  Chancellor ; 
And  ' '  Iron  and  blood ! ' '  his  echoing  would  not 

cease : 
Then  drain  his  faithless  veins  with  iron's 

blow. 

I  am  for  peace  at  any  price  and  so, 
To  kill  this   foaming  hound  that  knows  no 

peace, 
I  am  for  peace  at  this  price:   this  Red  War. 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


THE  NATIONS'  DAVID. 


Erect  before  Hell's  hurricane, 

Between  the  German  and  the  sea, 
Belgium,  still  smiling  through  your  pain, 

Still  radiant  and  brave  and  free : 
While  yet  the  cannon's  note  resounds 

Along  each  poplar-bordered  way, 
O,  bleeding  Belgium,  to  your  wounds 

What  mankind  owes,  what  man  may  say? 


11 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

Long  years,  while  battle  came  and  went 

Afar  at  Fate's  malign  caprice, 
Your  kindly  folk,  serene,  content, 

Pursued  the  placid  paths  of  peace. 
They  promised,  all  the  mighty  ones: 

' '  In  that  calm  land  shall  not  be  heard 
The  thunder  of  our  angry  guns" — 

Kaiser  and  King,  they  pledged  their  word. 

And  then,  unwarning,  arrogant, 

The  cut-throat  liar  of  Berlin 
Tore  into  shreds  his  covenant: 

His  armed  hordes  were  swarming  in; 
From  Prussian  beer-halls,  Khinish  hills, 

From  Aurich  east  to  Gumbinnen, 
From  Rostock  down  to  stolen  Silz, 

Sounded  the  tramp  of  Krupp-made  men. 


13 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

This  was  your  guardian-brother's  gift, 

The  choice  he  gave  his  little  ward: 
Betrayal  of  France  (the  course  of  thrift), 

Or  (Honour's  course)  the  crimsoned  sword. 
And  you,  the  Nations'  David,  chose; 

While  all  the  world  stood  trembling  by, 
You  called  your  sons,  and  they  arose : 

"Come  forth  to  die — come  forth  to  die!" 

Your  weaver  stopped  his  whirring  loom ; 

As  Caesar  met  him,  even  so  now 
Your  farmer  hurried  to  his  doom 

And  in  its  furrow  left  the  plough; 
And  Flanders,  Hainant,  Brabant  came, 

Antwerp  and  Limbourg — all  the  land: 
The  nameless  and  the  proud  of  name, 

Shoulder  to  shoulder,  hand-in-hand. 


15 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

Not  for  adventure,  nor  in  pride; 

With  naught  to  gain  and  all  to  lose — 
Their  homes,  their  wives, 
Their  lives 

Beside — 

True  sons  of  you, — they  too  could  choose. 
They  came — with  eyes  that  looked  on  death; 

Not  conscript  slaves,  but  conscious  men: 
The  Brugan  burgher  scant  of  breath, 

The  lean-limbed  hunter  of  Ardennes. 


Their  part  it  was  to  hold  the  gate, 

The  narrow  gate,  against  a  foe 
Outnumbering  scores  to  one — to  wait 

Till  Death  alone  should  bid  them  go. 
And  how  they  held  it !    Man  and  child : 

About  Liege  where  Leman  fed 
Blood-hungry  Prussians  blood  and  piled 

The  meadows  with  heroic  dead; 


17 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

While  village  after  village  fell, 

Cottage  and  church  engulfed  in  smoke; 

"While  all  the  land  became  a  Hell 
And  served  to  turn  a  Teuton  joke; 

"While  Belgian  women  prayed  in  vain 
For  German  mercy,  trusting,  fond; 

"While  German  "Culture"  burned  Louvain, 
And  German  "Tenderness"  Termonde: 

You  did  it,  Little  Belgium — you! 

You  stopped  the  dyke  with  half  your  sons; 
You  did  what  no  one  else  could  do 

Against  the  Vandals  and  the  Huns ! 
The  eternal  future  in  your  debt 

From  now  until  man's  latest  day, 
How  can  the  wondering  world  forget — 

And  how,  remembering,  repay? 


19 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

France,  England,  Russia:  they  have  fought 

As  fits  the  vast  initiate; 
You,  all  unready,  but  unbought, 

Till  they  were  marshalled  held  the  gate. 
Above  all  clamour  and  applause, 

You  stand,  whatever  else  befall, 
God's  David  in  mankind's  high  cause: 

Belgium,  the  bravest  of  them  all! 


21 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


BELGIUM  DE  PROFUNDIS. 

(After  the  Massacre  at  Louvain.) 


Out  of  the  deep !    Out  of  the  deep ! 
For  them  that  wake  and  them  that  sleep ; 
For  them  that  sleep  no  more  to  wake, 
And  them  that  wake  with  hearts  that  break : 
There,  by  the  summer-blue  North  Sea, 
Out  of  the  deep  they  call  to  Thee. 


23 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


O  God,  so  mighty  is  Thy  blow 
That  why  they  fell  they  may  not  know; 
So  vast  the  Law  Thyself  hast  writ 
That  they  may  never  measure  it : 
Yet,  though  Thou  send  this  agony, 
Out  of  the  deep  they  call — to  Thee. 


With  tongues  that  seem  so  still  in  death, 

With  tortured  mouths  that  scarce  draw  breath, 

In  ruin  dealt  for  no  offense, 

In  penury  and  pestilence, 

When  Thy  love  seems  a  mockery, 

Out  of  the  deep  they  call  to  Thee. 


25 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


And  we — through  all  this  world  of  Tkine, 

Who  blindly  follow  Thy  design — 

Still  in  each  terror-mastered  soul, 

Though  strength  be  shattered,  faith  is  whole; 

From  land  to  land  and  sea  to  sea, 

Out  of  the  deep  we  call  to  Thee. 


Somehow  at  last  the  night  shall  fade, 
Sometime  the  riddle  plain  be  made, 
Somewhere  the  broken  lives  of  men 
Be  gathered  by  Thy  hand  again : 
O  Maker — not  Destroyer — we — 
Out  of  the  deep  we  call  to  Thee. 


27 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


THE  PURPLE  MOMENT. 

(A  Belgian  Soldier  Speaks.) 


Give  me  to  die  when  life  is  high: 
The  sudden  thrust,  the  quick  release, 

Full  in  the  front,  in  harness,  not 
A  slow  decay  in  timorous  peace. 

What  of  the  German  millions  now  ? 

I  would  not  shirk  the  joy  of  strife, 
Nor  lose  one  flash  of  perfect  death 

For  sluggard  years  of  coward  life. 


My  breath,  which  is  God's  gift  to  me, 
Exulting  waits  His  high  behest; 

My  heart,  which  moves  at  His  command, 
At  His  .command  will  gladly  rest. 

For  who  would  tarry,  when  He  calls, 

To  haggle  at  the  heavy  toll, 
And  render  to  ungrudging  God 

The  insult  of  a  niggard  soul? 


31 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


HOME. 


(At  a  pillaged  hamlet  near  Termonde,  I  asked  a  dying 
peasant-woman  into  which  of  the  houses  still  standing 
I  should  assist  her — which  was  her  home.  She  pressed 
a  withered  hand  to  her  bayonet-pierced  side  and  an 
swered  :  ' '  The  Germans  have  taken  one  home  from  me ; 
but,  without  knowing  it,  they  have  given  me  another.  I 
am  going  there  now.") 


My  house  that  I  so  soon  shall  own 

Is  builded  in  a  silent  place, 
Not  uneompanioned  or  alone, 

But  shared  by  almost  all  my  race ; 
No  landscape  from  its  windows  rolls 

A  picture  of  the  earth's  increase; 
But,  oh,  for  all  our  stricken  souls, 

Within  its  sturdy  walls  is — Peace. 


33 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

The  other  house  I  used  to  love 

Before  they  burnt  it  overhead; 
My  slaughtered  man;   the  memory  of 

Our  daughter  screaming  in  the  red 
Embrace  of  Uhlans  at  my  door, 

Her  shrieks  all  silenced  by  their  shout 
Of  drunken  fury — this  is  war, 

And  my  new  home  will  shut  it  out. 

I  shall  not  see  the  German  hands 

That  tear  the  baby  from  the  breast; 
I  shall  not  hear  the  plundering  bands 

Laughing  at  murder:   I  shall  rest. 
There  Joy  shall  never  riot  in, 

Nor  robber  Sorrow  find  his  way; 
Those  shutters  bar  the  call  of  Sin, 

And  Duty  has  no  debt  to  pay. 


35 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

So  much  I  shall  be  heedless  of 

Serene,  secure,  dispassionate: 
There  is  not  anything  to  love; 

There  is  not  anything  to  hate. 
So  in  my  house  I  shall  forget 

All  of  the  orgies  and  the  strife, 
And  find,  past  memory  and  regret, 

The  Resurrection  and  the  Life. 


37 


215179 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


A  BELGIAN  MOTHER. 


"Your  son  fell  at  Namur":    to  Herent  sped 
This  word  for  one  who  used  of  old  to  live 

Where  now  reigned  wrack.     She  raised  her  sil 
vered  head: 
"My  only  son !    Would  I  had  ten  to  give !" 


39 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


THE  COMFORTER. 


(Of  a  wounded  priest,  assisting  other  wounded  in 
the  ruins  of  Louvain,  I  asked,  "What  will  come  of  all 
this!"  He  looked  at  me  with  the  eyes  of  faith: 
"God,"  he  answered.) 

Out  of  the  bitter  darkness  cometh  light! 

That  we  believe  though  we  have  never  seen. 
Surpassing  all  the  realm  of  sense, 
Unlearned  from  long  experience: 
For  every  wrong  some  recompense  of  right — 
Faith's  triumph  in  the  face  of  seeming  fact; 
The    thought   of   Justice — surely,    this   has 

been — 
Implanted  only  by  the  Omniscient  Act! 


41 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

The  ages  pass,  and  man  goes  down  to  death, 

But  this  lives  on  through  every  argument ; 
One  sins  and  many  suffer,  and  the  breath 

Of  nations'  prayers  seems  impotently  spent — 
In  lamentation  on  the  unheeding  air; 

Yet  still  we  cling  to  that  vague  benison, 
Seeing  the  foul  dethrone  the  acknowledged  fair, 
Seeing  wrong  crowned,  and  seeing  everywhere 

Injustice  in  the  name  of  Justice  done. 

So,  when  black  ruin  crushes  into  dust 

Our  House  of  Hope  and  Life,  it  rises  there, 
A  phoenix  from  the  embers:    blind-eyed  Trust, 
The   sobbing   faith,   strong-winged,   that   He   is 

just ; — 

That  even  yet,  somehow,  sometime,  somewhere, 
Though  down  strange  ways,  nor  seen,  nor 

understood, — 

Where  ancient  evil  flowers  into  good, 
Comes  God,  upon  the  footsteps  of  Despair. 


43 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


ON  BIVOUAC. 


(A  Belgian  soldier,  bivouacing  on  the  battlefield, 
showed  me  a  locket  containing  the  picture  of  his 
sweetheart.  "We  are  all  waiting  for  death  here,"  he 
said;  "but  for  me,  I  pass  the  time  of  waiting  in 
thinking  of  her.") 

Steadfast  and  true! 

To  you — to  you 
My  heart  goes  singing  through  the  night 

And,  tireless,  smiles 

Across  the  miles 
That  fail  to  thwart  its  dear  delight, 


45 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


The  searchlamps '  play 
Makes  streaks  of  day, 

On  night's  calm  canopy  outspread; 
In  that  dull  glow 
Due  south,  we  know, 

The  Germans  burn  our  soldier-dead. 

Beside  me,  deep 

In  kindly  sleep, 
My  comrades  of  the  battle  wait 

That  summons  clear 

(The  time  is  near!) 
"Which  sends  us  to  our  certain  fate. 


47 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


The  world  of  deed, 
Whose  only  creed 
Is  action,  passes  blindly  by, 
Unheeding,  and 
Here,  close  at  hand, 
We  stand  together:  you  and  I! 


What  difference 

Though  walls  of  sense 
Build  up  the  barrier  that  seems 

To  duller  wit 

Too  strong  for  it? 
We  have  the  key:   we  have  our  dreams! 


49 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


THE  GIRL  HE  LEFT  BEHIND  HIM. 


(Antwerp:  After  the  fall  of  Namur,  many  Belgian 
women  refused  to  wear  black  for  their  dead,  saying 
that  it  was  no  reason  for  sorrow  that  their  loved 
ones  should  have  died  for  their  country.) 

For  your  dear  sake,  now  you  are  gone, 

I  am  content  to  labour  on ; 

To  wait  until  the  day  be  through, 

And  smile — as  you  would  have  me  do, 

Leaving  the  livery  of  woe 

For  them  that  lighter  sorrows  know, 

And  good  and  ill  serenely  take 

Unto  this  last — for  your  dear  sake. 


51 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

For  your  dear  sake,  who  wooed  and  won, 

I  love  the  earth  you  trod  upon, 

Nor  search  in  vain  the  starlit  skies 

For  those  clear  stars  that  were  your  eyes; 

But  read,  with  your  firm  faith  for  key, 

The  riddle  of  eternity 

In  that  high  hope  no  doubts  can  shake — 

Once  yours,  now  mine  for  your  dear  sake. 

For  your  dear  sake  I  bow  my  head 
And  hear  God's  awful  judgment  read; 
I  know  that  He  who  sent  me  you 
Can  naught  of  evil  plan  or  do; 
And  cry,  within  the  church-aisle  dim: 
' '  Lord,  I  believe — because  of  him ! 
You  gave  me  him  and  took  him;    take 
My  soul  to  his — for  his  dear  sake!" 


53 


LITTLE     OLD      BELGIUM 


GLORY. 

I  know  that  hamlet  well:    a  single  street 
Bordered  with  cottages,  where  faces  sweet — 
Wives  at  their  household  tasks,  and  mild  old  men 
Dreaming  their  younger  yesterdays  again 
In  silent  sunshine — smiled  at  everyone; 
Where,  with  the  setting  of  the  gentle  sun, 
The  husbands  from  the  fields  came  singing  home, 
And  where  their  children  all  day  long  would 

roam 

Till  evening,  when  the  whispering  poplar-boughs 
Echoed  the  music  of  young  lovers'  vows. 
A  hundred  years  it  had  been  so — and  so 
I  knew  that  hamlet  one  short  month  ago. 


55 


Then  I  came  back:    a  single  house  stood  there; 
The  rest  were  smoke  upon  the  August  air 
And  ruins  in  the  obliterated  road. 
A  German  sentry  through  the  ashes  strode; 
An  old  man 's  body,  grey  hair  splashed  with  red, 
Lay  in  the  gutter;  toward  a  blackened  shed, 
Flushed  face  aglow  and  savage  lip  acurl, 
A  death-grimed  Uhlan  dragged  a  little  girl; 
A  strangled  baby  lay  beside  the  stream; 
Far  in  the  dusk  I  heard  a  woman  scream, 
And  from  the  inn-porch,  dark  with  blood  and 

wine, 
Roared  forth  the  chorus  of  the  Waclit  Am  Rhein. 


57 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


MAW-WORM. 


"How  magnificently  God  fought  for  our  son." 

— The  Kaiser. 

You  call  on  God!     You  juggle  with.  Christ's 

name, 
Wilhelm,   the   Treaty-Breaker,    'round  whose 

throne 

The  incense  curls  of  every  bestial  shame — 
Why,  Herod's  hands  are  white  beside  your 
own! 


59 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

" Peace  upon  earth,  good  will  to  all":  with  this 
Christ  came  to  men  whose  world  was  black 

from  loss, 

And  they  betrayed  Him  with  a  traitor's  kiss 
And  nailed  the  hands  that  blessed  them  to  the 
Cross. 

Those  He  has  pardoned. — Who  can  pardon  pray 
With  that  foul  mark  which  brands  your  cow 
ard-brow  ? 
They  slew  and  knew  not ;  you,  though  knowing, 

slay: 
Even  God's  mercy  will  not  save  you  now! 


61 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


BUEGHERMEISTER  MAX. 

(A  Soldier-Chant) 


(NOTE. — The  Belgians  pronounce  this  name  in  the 
fashion  of  their  adversaries:   i.  e.,  with  a  broad  "a.") 

What  of  Burghermeister  Max 

When  the  Germans  came  to  Brussels? — 
They,  accustomed  to  hard  knocks, 

Fresh  from  seven  mighty  tussles; 
He,  a  man  of  no  renown, 
Said:    "I  mean  to  save  the  town." 


63 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


"Save  it?"     Everybody  laughed! 

"We've  no  forts,  and  where 's  the  army?" 
Those  who  were  not  weeping  chaffed. 

Max  said:  "Don't  let  that  alarm  ye. 
Send  the  Garde  Civique  away; 
Trust  me,  and  I'll  save  the  day." 

"Here's  our  court-house,"  they  complained: 
"Watch  the  Germans  make  it  tinder! 

Half  our  men  are  now  entrained; 
Who  are  we  to  fight  or  hinder? 

There's  that  fountain  by  Grupello — 

Destined  for  some  Berlin  fellow!" 


66 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


Max  said :   ' '  Fetch  me  out  a  horse ; 

I  will  make  them  stand  from  under; 
I  will  meet  them  in  full  force : 

I — and  someone  else,  by  thunder! 
Fetch  two  horses:   for,  you  see, 
Whitlock  takes  a  ride  with  me. ' ' 

General  von  What  's-his-Name 

Met  them  with  his  Germans  mighty; 

Threatened  cannon,  sword  and  flame. 
Max,  who  wore  for  shirt  his  nightie 

Hastily  tucked  into  his  trouser, 

Waited  and  then  answered:   "How,  sir, 


67 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


"Here's  the  fairest  town  on  earth, 
And  you'd  tear  it  up,  you  vulture? 

Wouldn't  it  be  something  worth 
If,  to  bribe  your  German  Culture, 

I  should,  rather,  frankly  say: 

'You  need  money:  make  it  pay 

Your  Napoleon  manque' — 
Take  it,  make  it  foot  the  rent: 

Recall  your  Emperor's  percent." 

General  von  What's-his-Name 

Saw  the  point;  was  somewhat  flustered; 
Feigned  the  virtue  of  a  shame; 

Made  a  face  like  German  mustard. 
"Aber,"  said  he,  "one  point  you  miss: 
What  do  I  get  out  of  this?" 

Max  at  Whitlock  looked  intent; 

Said  Whitlock:    "Not  a  copper  cent." 


69 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


General  von  What  's-his-Name 

Tore  his  nightly-crimped  moustache; 

Talked  again  of  sword  and  flame; 
Uttered  threats  supremely  rash. 

"Nix?"  he  echoed:  "You're  who,  pray?" 

Whitlock  said:   "The  U.  S.  A." 

That  sufficed.     Old  What 's-his-Name 
Saw  a  light  and  saw  it  quickly; 

Got  into  another  frame 

Of  mind,  and  thence  attended  strictly 

To  his  master's  share  of  rent 

(It  was  25 %}. 


71 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 


So,  though  Prussian  troops  complained, 

The  court-house  didn't  serve  for  tinder; 
Quite  intact  the  town  remained, 

When  but  two  men  stood  to  hinder 
All  the  Germans  bred  to  knocks : 
Monsieur  le  Burghermeister  Max 

And — "Pardon,  what  name  did  you  say?: 

"Whitloek,  of  the  U.  S.  A." 


73 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 
BELGIAN  MARCHING-SONG. 


(I  first  heard  this  song  sung  near  Antwerp  by  a 
regiment  lately  from  the  front  and  about  to  return 
there.  The  slang  here  given  is,  of  course,  the  freest  of 
free  translations.) 

Are  you  built  for  a  fight? 
Are  your  timbers  tight? 

Can  you  march  with  an  empty  skin 
For  a  day  and  end 
With  a  scrap,  my  friend, 

There's  devil  a  chance  to  win? 
Can  you  thirst  and  starve? 
Can  you  lunge  and  carve? 

Is  your  trigger-finger  true? 
Would  you  rather  bite  hay 
Than  run  away? 

Then  here  is  the  job  for  you ! 

Come  follow  the  Yellow-and-black-and-red  I 
Thank  God  who  made  you  so ! 
Here's  fame  and  death 
In  a  single  breath: 
So  follow  the  Flag,  lad— go! 


75 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

"We're  all  of  us  sick 
For  a  double-quick 

At  the  German  Martinet: 
We  took  the  cure 
'At  grim  Namur, 

But  we've  got  the  fever  yet. 
We've  carved  at  his  head 
And  his  eyeballs  red, 

And  now  we'll  pepper  his  paw; 
He's  ten  to  one: 
It's  easily  done — 

We'll  pickle  the  Kaiser's  jaw! 

Come  follow  the  Yellow-and-black-and-red ! 
Thank  God  that  made  you  so! 
Here's  fame  and  death 
In  a  single  breath: 
So  follow  the  Flag,  lad — go! 


77 


LITTLE      OLD      BELGIUM 

Step  in,  step  in: 
The  lines  are  thin, 

But  they  're  filling  rank  by  rank ! 
Play  hide-and-seek 
With  the  Prussian  meek; 

Then  charge  on  his  tender  flank. 
He's  a  cultured  soul; 
When  he  gets  his  toll, 

He  says,  he  '11  be  humane ! 
Will  he  spare  your  life? 
Did  he  spare  your  wife? 
Then  how  about  Louvain? 

So  follow  the  Yellow-and-black-and-red ! 
Thank  God  for  the  tattered  rag ! 
Go,  say  good-bye, 
Then  come  and  die — 
Come  follow  the  Belgian  Flag! 


79 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 
THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


'57 


Form  L-9-15rw-3 .'34 


PS 

3521     Kauffraan  - 
K15    1       Little    nlH 
Belgium. 


A    001  121  668 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 


